


Persephone

by kelpies



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelpies/pseuds/kelpies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even consulting criminals have hearts, and in his last moments he thinks of Molly. He supposes it's his greatest tragedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persephone

In his last moments, he thinks of Molly.

He knows that his thoughts should be on Seb – gorgeous, furious, hate-filled Seb, with his perfect aim and lilting croon, muttering "I will not let you die" in the half-light of the morning before – but he can't help it. God, she's so _naïve_ , so willingly blind! He remembers the way her lips would quirk up at the corners whenever he came near, even though he could practically _smell_ the fear radiating off her. Her panic, like Seb's tortured angst, was delightful.

He always has had a thing for the strange ones.

(He'd dragged her down to his own personal kingdom, a Persephone to his Hades, but she'd clawed her way back up to daylight. She deserves a medal, really. Most of the people he's fucked have ended up drowned.)

There isn't a sniper fixed on Molly at the moment. Jim had perished the thought before it could fully surface; when one of Seb's men (the faces and names are interchangeable, because while it's vaguely inconvenient to find and replace top-rate sharpshooters it's worth it in the long run) had suggested her as a target Jim had snapped the man's neck like a Twiglet. The others had remained suspiciously quiet after that, which Jim approved of.

The thought of her niggles at the back of his mind like a worrisome weed. She presents as much of a problem as Sherlock Holmes does. He wants to kill her – squeeze out her very essence until those kind brown eyes are flat and lifeless and sickening and beautiful – but something has prevented him. She had shown him compassion, and he hates her for it, but she isn't ordinary. Because she isn't ordinary. In his experience, kindness goes hand-in-hand with monotony, because it's so _trite_ , but she is – well.

He will never admit it, of course, because having a heart is nothing more than a liability and a very dangerous one at that: the night at the pool proved as much for Sherlock, the hateful man, but Jim can never confess to such a weakness. He supposes it's his greatest tragedy.

He puts the gun to his mouth, pictures Molly ( _flushed-happy-ferocious-hurt-disgusted_ ), and pulls the trigger.


End file.
